


Summer Storm

by MagicMarker



Series: Figrid Drabbles and One-Shots [12]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Kissing in the Rain, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12198225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: Nobody likes being blindsided by an engagement announcement, and that goes double if you're one of the betrothed.





	Summer Storm

Sigrid pulled at the hem of her bodice, trying to get some air to flow underneath it. What little she accomplished only drew her attention to the dampness of her chemise below. She was sweating right through the cotton. More than anything she wished for her old waist-cincher and vest, but it seemed the days of comfortable clothes were behind her now. She didn’t have anything like that anymore, only stiff-boned bodices and layers of skirt. She’d made good ground though.

Prince Fίli stood beside her in the prairie grass silently, waiting for her to speak. The moments stretched between them, sticky like taffy, and his patience unnerved her. She had been calm, she had collected herself, and now that he’d caught up with her all that rage burned through her veins again.

“Why are you here?” she demanded finally.

“I could ask you the same,” he answered. His voice and his gaze were even, and Sigrid wondered if he’d had to practice that in Prince Classes or whatever it was you did when you knew your whole life you were royalty. It disgusted her. How could he be calm at a time like this?

“I asked you first.” Even as she said it, she hated the petulance that tinged her voice. 

He looked away for the briefest moment, then met her gaze again. “I came out here to find you. To apologize to you. You should have heard it from me.” “Should have heard? Should have _heard?!”_ Sigrid spat, blood boiling. “If I’m going to marry someone I should be _consulted_ , not alerted! You knew about this, you planned thiswith them, and you never saw fit to bring me to the table too?” 

“Sigrid, I’m sorry,” Fίli said. He took a step closer and Sigrid could see beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead despite the much-cooler, simpler trousers and shirt he wore. In fact he hardly looked like a prince at all just now. “It all happened so fast, there _was_ no p--”

A gust of wind cut him off. It was cooler than Sigrid expected, and as she pulled pieces of hair from her mouth she looked back in the direction from which it came. Dark clouds were rolling in, and goosebumps rose on her arms when she smelled it. Rain was coming. 

“I don’t trust those clouds and I don’t trust you,” she said firmly, and sure enough a second later thunder rumbled over them, rustling the grasses at their feet and sending a small flock of birds up into the air. “I’m going home.”

“Erebor’s closer,” Fίli offered cautiously. And it was true; Sigrid had been skulking off for at least two hours. She’d covered a lot of ground despite her clothing.

Still. 

“Like hell I’m going there.” She bunched her skirts into her fists and set off back towards Dale. If she got caught in the rain, so be it. It was better than being stuck inside some gloomy mountain with brooding dwarves that didn’t give a rat’s ass about her.

She only made it about three feet when a warm hand caught her elbow. “Sigrid, please. I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sigrid yanked her arm away, whirling on him furiously. “It’s too late for that, buddy boy.” Another clap of thunder boomed, and she hated how damn poetic the scene must be. It sounded like a storybook, the way the weather reflected her mood. The sky darkened as the clouds slowly floated in front of the sun, and she decided to roll with it. “I expect this from King Thorin, and I’ll deal with my Da later, but you?” She swallowed thickly. “How could you?” she asked, quieter. “I thought you were my friend.” Her shoulders slumped as all the fight drained out of her. “This will ruin everything.”

Fίli took another step towards her and reached out to push a piece of hair off of her sticky forehead. His fingers lingered there at her neck, just below her ear, before he let his arm fall with a self-conscious frown. “I-- I certainly hope it does not.”

The first fat drops of rain struck Sigrid’s face and practically sizzled off her burning cheeks. He’d never touched her like that before, with such familiarity. Of course, they’d never actually been alone together before; rather, their meetings had always been larger state affairs with their whole families. Like this afternoon’s banquet had been when King Thorin and her father had announced their… arrangement. As more drops of water fell on her head and shoulders, she examined Fίli closely. 

He was getting wet too, splotches of darker linen sticking to his chest and arms even as the dry spots were buffeted in the breeze. His curls hung limp and frizzy, and he didn’t carry anything with him, not even a dagger at his hip. In fact, he’d shed his outer jacket and just gone running, as far as she could tell. Same as she had. Why had he come after her?

Fίli must have seen the question in her eyes. “I didn’t want to ruin anything. In fact, I’d hoped…” He wiped rain off his face with a frustrated grunt. “I’d hoped that if I married you, I could-- I could _save,_ well, whatever this is. There was already talk--” He cut himself off and took a deep breath. “If you married someone else, I knew I’d never see you again.” He reached out and gingerly took her hand. “And I couldn’t bear it. So I asked Bard for your hand, before anyone else could have you. I didn’t consult anyone else, not even Thorin, because I didn’t want anyone to stand in my way. But that was a mistake.” He bowed his head, rivulets of water now running down the side of his face. “I should have asked _you.”_

Sigrid stood there shell-shocked. Breaths came shallow, and she was unsure whether to blame her sodden clothing or her utter surprise. “You mean, you actually _want_... “ Her tongue felt heavy, her whole mouth dry despite the steady fall of rain.

Fίli pulled her hand to his chest and held it there, pressed under both of his. Heat bled from him into fingers she hadn’t realized had become so cold. “I do,” he vowed. “I want you, all for myself. I want your smiles and I want your tears and I even want your anger, Sigrid, all of it, because at least I deserve that. I was your friend, I _am_ your friend. I wanted more and I… I am so sorry I hurt you.”

A shiver ran down Sigrid’s spine, and another round of goosebumps rose up on her limbs. She blinked water out of her eyes and licked her lips, though no words came to them. It had just simply never occurred to her that they could be together. He’d always been right in her backyard, and whenever anyone talked about her marrying off, it had sounded so far away and foreign. She hadn’t been mad that she’d be made to marry Fίli; in the deepest, most secret part of her heart she’d hoped for it for nigh on three years. No, she’d been mad because she’d been so certain he didn’t feel the same way.

“Please,” Fίli whispered with his head bowed, his shirt now practically translucent with rain. “Forgive me.”

Sigrid reached out with her free hand and lifted Fίli’s chin, and before she could lose her nerve, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. There was rainwater on his lips and caught in his mustache, and she could taste it when she pulled away from him. They looked at each other for a silent moment, then Fίli surged forward again. She had opened the floodgates, and he was a tidal wave. One arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him, the other slid up into her soaking hair to pull her back in for a kiss. This one seared, flowing white-hot from her lips down to her core. He kissed like she gave him breath, like she was water in the desert. He kissed like he’d been thinking about how to kiss her for quite some time.

It felt amazing. Every inch of her was on fire, the rain entirely forgotten in favor of the sensation of his lips moving against hers, his mustache brushing harshly against her nose as he urged her wordlessly for more. She parted her lips for him and as his hot tongue flicked into her mouth a quiet, half-strangled moan escaped despite herself. 

Instantly the urgency was gone. Fίli pressed his lips against hers in one final, precious touch, and then he pulled away, leaving Sigrid feeling breathless and empty as he let her go and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I’ve pushed too far. I should be getting you home.”

While Sigrid wouldn’t have minded kissing him forever in that rain, she had to admit that dry clothes and a cup of tea and _not_ getting all hot and bothered in the middle of a damn field would probably be better for her in the long run. “Yes, I suppose we should go back to Dale. Or I should, anyway. You could go home.”

Fίli laughed quietly. “I’m afraid I left my pony and all my possessions back in Dale. So I’ll have to accompany you.”

“Ahah!” Sigrid crowed as she started off back towards her city. “This was your plan all along!”

“How many different ways can I impress upon you: I did not have a plan. There was no plan. Absolutely zero preparation, no premeditation involved in any way. That’s why it went so tits-up, if you’ll pardon my Sylvan.” Fίli scurried to catch up with her, which wasn’t hard considering her heavy, sodden skirts and the slippery grass underneath her feet. 

They continued along, bickering good-naturedly until the rain stopped and they reached a crossroad. In one direction, King Bard’s palace. In the other, Fίli’s pony and saddlebags. 

“Well, this is goodbye, then,” Sigrid said.

“For now,” Fίli replied. 

“I suppose I should actually tell Da I accept your proposal.” 

“I suppose I should actually give you one.” 

“I, uh-- What?” Sigrid gaped as Fίli reached into his pocket and withdrew a bird-shaped pendant on a pile of fine golden chain. 

“Dwarves aren’t usually as public with their displays of romantic affection, but I hope now you know I love you. Desperately. I have for years.” He held the necklace forward and said, “You’re my One, Princess Sigrid. I offer you my heart, my body and my soul. Will you give me the honor of your hand in marriage?”

“Yes! Gods yes, what took you so long?” Sigrid pulled her tangled wet hair over her shoulder and took the necklace from him, fastening it around her neck so it hung just below her clavicle. She leaned in to kiss him but the whinny of a horse down the road caused her to pull back.

“I’ll write,” she said instead. 

It was so hard to leave him, but her boots squished and her skirts were caked with mud, and the chill had reached her bones. So she smiled, and turned, and headed up to the palace for a hot meal and a bath. She held the pendant tightly in her hand and a swell of warmth washed over her. Fίli loved her after all. He loved her, and he’d be back for her, just like the sun had come back to peek between the clouds. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fic! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


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